


how logan lerman learned to stop worrying and love jake abel's XXX rated thoughts

by seditonem



Category: Percy Jackson RPF
Genre: M/M, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 03:56:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1536623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seditonem/pseuds/seditonem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which logan is a telepath, and jake has interesting thoughts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	how logan lerman learned to stop worrying and love jake abel's XXX rated thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> i went through a phase, ok.

His mom says he’s always been very in touch with people’s emotions. His dad says he’s a good listener. Logan hasn't told them the truth (mostly because it's just plain weird): which is that he can read minds.   
  
It’s not like the kind of mind-reading that people expect. He can’t tell instantly if people are telling the truth, or read their darkest secrets. People don’t have clear, organised minds like that, so what he usually gets is a tangled mess of confusion, frustration and fear. And some good stuff, too, if he looks hard enough. He’s had it all his life, this low-level telepathy, and it’s something he’s more or less used to. In fact, it can even be useful – sometimes when he’s at auditions he can’t help but look into the casting director’s mind and see what they want. But most of the time he chooses to tune it out, to turn away from looking deep into who people really are, because he’s found some frightening things in there before. Besides, it’s not like everyone likes him, so often it’s just safer to turn a blind eye. Or ear. He’s not sure which applies best in the situation.   
  
When he meets Brandon and Alex he tunes in slightly to them, which helps because he knows instantly that he and Brandon are going to be pretty awesome friends, and that he and Alex will only ever be  _just_ friends. He tunes in slightly to the crew as well, to Pierce and to Uma, just to know how to get on their good sides and not piss them off, and then – then he meets Jake.   
  
It’s the low buzz of noise at first, before he sees him. The quiet chatter, like a radio left on in another room, not annoying but persistently there. Logan waits for him, sitting nervously in a chair with a cup of coffee.   
  
Then Jake comes across the corner and as Logan stands up, he’s hit by a solid wall of thought. He scrambles around in it for a second, pushing it back, down, away, and finally, just when he thinks he has it under control, there it is:  _Jesus fuck, how’m I supposed to concentrate on set with a piece of ass like that?_  
  
“Hi, I’m Jake,” Jake says, holding out his hand to shake. His voice is identical to the one in Logan’s mind, and at that point Logan knows there is absolutely no way he’s going to be able to look Jake in the eye ever again.   
  
 _Sweet Jesus, look at those lips,_  Jake thinks.   
  
Logan thinks  _Oh. Shit._  
  
#  
  
At first it’s tolerable. Jake doesn’t have many scenes with him, after all, not at the beginning of filming. They start with the city shots – easy stuff. Logan hangs around with Brandon most of the time, drinking coffee and living off adrenaline. He catches odd glimpses of Jake’s thoughts from time to time -  _gotta get some bananas on the way home_ ,  _oh fuck the dishwasher’s broken again why do those people never actually fix it_  - but usually they’re far enough away that Logan can’t hear his thoughts.   
  
But then come the Camp Half-Blood scenes, and Logan practically staggers around set trying not to be completely decimated by the power of Jake’s thoughts. He’s never had anything like it; usually he can tune people out, stop living through their thoughts, but then there’s Jake. Jake, who he can’t turn off. Jake, who he can’t ignore. Jake, whose mind twists and turns past Logan’s every mental defence and hooks into his own thoughts.   
  
They film Percy and Luke’s first meeting in front of a crowd of extras and Logan is practically shaking under the weight of Jake’s thoughts. They’re not even incriminating – just things about his script and how he’s hoping he won’t fuck up, pretty boring stuff really – but by the end of the day Logan’s mind is practically crying for relief, so when he eventually gets back to his trailer he’s out like a light.   
  
#  
  
The next day is marginally better. The day after that Logan’s starting to think he must’ve imagined those thoughts about his ass that Jake had. As the week wears on he finds it easier and easier to cope with Jake’s thoughts, and eventually, by Sunday, he’s got it down to the same level as Brandon and Alex. Of course, his mind is also easier to dip into than anyone else’s, so in the time between takes Logan sits and pretends to listen to his iPod, when really he’s pilfering Jake’s thoughts.   
  
And God, they’re interesting. The man has opinions and thoughts that Logan can’t help wanting to debate with him. He’s got hopes and fears and complicated dreams and a nicotine addiction that rivals Logan’s caffeine one. By Tuesday, Logan can hardly keep out of his mind, can’t stop reading his thoughts or waiting to see his reaction to the next one of Brandon’s pranks.   
  
On Wednesday, when Brandon has to hit him on the arm to jerk him back to the present moment, Logan realises he has to do something about it. Jake’s going to think he’s really odd if Logan comes up to him and starts debating about the present political situation with him and about how he really loves Rahm Emanuel too. So, what better way to break his addiction to Jake’s wonderful brain than go cold turkey?  
  
#  
  
It’s never that easy. Logan’s had problems like this before: the quiet girl in the back of his math class who was always wondering if the man next door to her was actually a spy, and had some proof to back it up; the gorgeous blond teacher who actually hated their entire class and wanted to be doing research on spiders in Nigeria; the lithe and alluring casting director for a TV series that Logan kept seeing around for two months. He’s not new to interesting brains.   
  
But Jake’s is  _different_. Jake himself is different. Logan can’t keep away from him – especially not when Jake invites him over to his trailer for an  _Assassin’s Creed_  marathon that Friday evening. Logan can’t say no – it’d be rude – so he reluctantly traipses over and is rewarded with corn chips, Coke, a ridiculous amount of candy and Jake’s ever-present beautiful mind.   
  
He gets really into the game, though, and half-way through stabbing some thug in the stomach Logan realises he’s actually having fun. It’s almost no work to keep out of Jake’s head now, and the rest of the world has faded to a quiet noise like traffic outside a house. It’s peaceful.   
  
Good things never last.   
  
At exactly the moment he stands up to use the bathroom Logan hears it.   
  
 _Holy fucking hell, that ass is criminal._  
  
Logan actually blushes. He mumbles an excuse and heads for the bathroom, but putting a door between himself and Jake doesn’t do a thing. Jake’s thoughts bleed in after him, surrounding him, and all Logan can suddenly hear is how Jake finds him ridiculously hot, how Jake’s been trying  _not_  to think about him all this time. That’d explain the stream of slightly dull thought around him on set, then.  
  
And then, just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, the visual thoughts arrive and join the party.   
  
Visual thoughts are generally the worst. Logan’s seen women imagine stabbing their husbands, men pushing their ex-girlfriends into traffic, old men having sex with younger women, you get the drift. Sometimes, though, if you catch the right person, the visual thoughts are amazing, beautiful, sexy. Either way, they’re the most difficult to drown out or ignore, and the most detailed.   
  
Jake’s, however, are like HD TV. Logan’s never seen anything like them, mostly because they involve him.  
  
There is absolutely  _no way_  he can look Jake in the eye ever again, he thinks, because these thoughts are like hardcore porn. Starring  _himself_. The first thought that hits him is Jake jerking him off in the bed in his trailer, kissing him hard and fast as his hand moves against his skin. The second is them in an alley-way, behind a club, and this time it’s Logan who’s doing it, Jake’s cock in his mouth.   
  
About the time when the third thought hits him (Jake fucking him in the Poseidon cabin) Logan realises he’s hard. Painfully hard. He pushes Jake’s thoughts away as best he can, tries to think about his grandma in underwear, which is usually more effective than a cold shower, and sprints out the door of Jake’s trailer with a rushed, “I’ll see you later Jake gotta go family emergency!”   
  
He runs back to his own trailer and has to jerk off three times before he deems it safe for him to be seen in public again.   
  
#  
  
For a couple of weeks after the trailer incident, Logan pretty much avoids Jake. Mostly because he can’t stop thinking about the visual thoughts he saw. They were ridiculously graphic, better than any porn he’s ever seen in his entire life-time, yet if you looked at Jake you’d never think him that kind of guy. He’s nice to girls and guys, doesn’t make any advances to anyone, and mostly keeps himself to himself. With regret, Logan realises that the time he was invited over to Jake’s trailer was probably one of the only times Jake had made any sort of overture to friendship.   
  
“Fuck it all,” he mumbles to himself, and decides to try again.   
  
#  
  
Trying it all again means he invites Jake over to play  _Call of Duty: Modern Warfare_  that evening with more food than they could ever eat in one evening. Jake brings beer. Logan’s not sure what to think about that, but he resolutely stays out of Jake’s brain, and the beer, immersing himself in the game instead.   
  
Jake is, it becomes apparent, very good at  _Call of Duty_. In fact he’s so good that Logan almost gives up hope of beating him at all, fighting for his life instead. He’s about to give up, pausing the game to get something to drink, when his control slips.   
  
 _Does he always wear such tight shirts? Jesus fuck_ , Jake thinks, and Logan chokes on his drink. He coughs, and Jake hits him on the back, and then Logan has to shut his eyes because the thoughts come thick and fast, bombarding him with situations and opportunities where they fuck.   
  
“Hey, man, are you ok?” Jake asks, as Logan breathes heavily.  
  
“Yeah, yeah, it’s cool,” Logan waves him off, trying to smile.   
  
“I, uh, really appreciate you doing this, by the way,” Jake says, looking slightly awkward. “I know we didn’t get off to the best of starts or anything, but – ”  
  
“No, it’s fine – you’re cool to hang out with,” Logan says, and what he means is  _I love your mind._    
  
Or maybe he means  _We should just fuck and get this over with_. He’s not sure anymore.   
  
#  
  
The next week they have a few days of combat training together, so Logan ends up going to sleep whenever he can to ensure his mental defences will be strong enough. He’s never felt so tired, so close to just letting someone else’s brain wash over into his, and it’s taking its toll on him.   
  
The training is actually somewhat of an anti-climax. Jake keeps his thoughts on a mundane level, his brain only wandering occasionally to the weather outside and what he’s going to cook for dinner that evening. At one point he thinks about a smoking break, and just after that they finish for the day.   
  
Logan ends up following Jake out of the door, wiping the sweat on his face and arms away with a towel. Jake looks like it was pretty easy work for him – but then again he was on Supernatural, and Logan’s heard horror stories about how much Jared Padalecki works out for that show. Just outside the door Jake lights a cigarette, sighing as the smoke curls around his head, his mind beautifully quiet, and Logan can’t help staring.   
  
Jake Abel, he suddenly realises, is incredibly hot.   
  
How had it escaped his notice before? He’d wanted to fuck him for a while, but perhaps that was just Jake’s influence. And now he knows it, knows what he wants, the realisation stuns him.   
  
Jake opens his eyes, grins lazily, and offers Logan a cigarette.   
  
“Nah, thanks,” Logan says, quietly, and flees.   
  
#  
  
That evening he stands in front of the mirror in his bathroom and stares at himself. His mind sags; he’s almost too tired to keep everyone else tuned down, and what used to be a quiet babble is now a dull roar of painful noise. Something has to change soon, or he knows he’s going to go insane. Logan rubs his hands over his face, letting his towel slip to the floor, and steps backwards into the shower. There are dark rings under his eyes and he’s lost weight, he can tell – but truthfully the only thing he cares about is Jake fucking Abel. Or fucking Jake Abel. They blur into one most of the time.   
  
Unfortunately, the combination of the words “fucking”, “Jake” and “Abel” inevitably gets him hard. Logan’s body protests, but he can’t help it, and before he can think about it he’s got a hand around his cock, jerking off slowly in the shower. He’s too tired to go fast and get it over with, but going slow is like torture. He moans, his head lolling back against the tile wall, and his hair slicks to his forehead as he rocks his hips, pushing his cock through the tight circle of his thumb and fingers.   
  
When he comes, eventually, it’s explosive, covering the walls of his shower, and he has to clean it up slowly, his body sore and tired. He collapses onto his bed and falls asleep naked, on top of the covers.   
  
#  
  
The next day, someone puts paprika in his coffee.  
  
“Brandon,” Logan sighs, wearily, and Brandon attempts to keep a straight face. “C’mon, man, I know it was you,” Logan says, tipping the coffee out of the cup down the sink and getting another one.   
  
“Seriously?” Brandon replies, looking affronted. “I’m hurt, dude, really hurt.” Logan rolls his eyes and leaves before his fragile temper snaps. Behind him, Brandon’s thoughts turn worried, and later Logan hears Alex thinking how he looks so thin and pale these days. He almost ends up shouting at one of the make-up girls, telling her that really he’s fucking  _fine_  and would people just shut the fuck  _up_. He fucks up his next scene with Alex and even Chris sounds mildly worried.  
  
At that point Jake arrives on set, smiles winningly at everyone, and the cast and crew divert their attention to him. Logan folds into his chair, puts his music on loudly in his headphones, and tries to blot everything out.  
  
#  
  
“Hey,” someone whispers. Logan frowns and doesn’t open his eyes. “Hey,” the voice repeats, and Logan sighs, wriggling in his chair.   
  
 _Don’t move like that, please, fuck, it’s hard enough not jumping you already_.   
  
Logan’s eyes fly open and sure enough, it’s Jake.   
  
“Hi,” he blurts out, and Jake looks quietly pleased.   
  
“We’re having a break. D’you wanna get a coffee with me? Heard you like ‘em spicy,” he grins, and Logan rolls his eyes but follows him out anyway.   
  
Outside, Jake buys him a coffee and they sit down outside the tiny cafe, Jake lighting up as soon as they do so. He looks relieved, tired, and happy. Logan sort of wishes he could be the same. He sighs, rubbing his hands over his face, and looks up to see Jake contemplating him. His mind, however, is suspiciously silent.  
  
“’s up?” Logan asks, and Jake shrugs.  
  
“You just look tired,” he says, quietly, but his thoughts say  _I’m worried_. Logan can’t help blushing. When his mom thinks that, or his friends, he just shrugs it off, but here – here it’s different. Everything is different with Jake.   
  
“Been sleeping badly,” he admits, and Jake thinks  _Oh, you wouldn’t if you just let me in there with you_. Logan very slowly takes a sip of coffee and tries not to choke again. Choking would probably give Jake the impression he's some sort of idiot.   
  
"Same," Jake shrugs, and Logan slips into his mind long enough to see that it's true. And it's because Jake's been up all night jerking off to thoughts of them together. Logan dives out of those thoughts as fast as he can, because the last thing he needs is to get hard outside a tiny coffee place in between takes.   
  
They have a quiet, calm conversation and then walk back to the set, Jake cracking quiet jokes that make Logan grin wider than he's done in days, and then as they part ways Logan hears  _gonna drive me fucking mad_  and he loses it.   
  
He storms back to Jake, grabs him by the arm and pulls him outside into an alleyway. Jake looks like he's about to say something, but then Logan's mouth is in the way and finally,  _finally_  they're kissing, and nothing has ever been this good in Logan's life. Jake moans against him, and Logan can feel his heart beating like an 808.  
  
He pulls away, panting, sprints back into the studio and nails his scene with Alex.   
  
#  
  
Schedule changes mean he doesn't see Jake for a week, and during that time Logan's mind whirls around what he's done. He doesn't regret it - it certainly stopped Jake's thoughts for a while - but he wonders, suddenly afraid, if Jake didn't want his fantasies to stay just as thoughts.   
  
This fear is abruptly dispelled when he gets a text on his phone that says only  _call of duty 2moro my trailer_.   
  
Logan wonders if he should be worried that he's hard just from that text.   
  
#  
  
When Jake opens the door to his trailer that evening, Logan is very sure of two things.  
  
Firstly, that Jake has shaved, showered and generally cleaned himself up.   
  
Secondly, that he really, really wants to sleep with Jake.   
  
Jake grins widely, and it’s a nervous grin that is ridiculously endearing. Logan's heart thumps like a restless rabbit. He walks past Jake - who smells like citrus sorbet ( _delicious_ , he thinks) - and flops down onto the sofa, trying to be ready for whatever's about to happen.   
  
Jake says, "Do you want something to drink?"  
  
Logan licks his lips, an open invitation. He slips easily into Jake's mind, bypassing the cheat codes for  _Bioshock_ , and finds the thoughts about himself.   
  
And God, have they multiplied. Ever since they've kissed Logan can tell Jake's thought of practically nothing else, and the visual thoughts in his mind are so vivid and real that Logan's breath hitches in his chest. At the movement, Jake seems to lose all self-control, and he pushes off the counter and is kneeling in front of Logan in two seconds flat. Carefully, like they might both just break, he cups Logan's face and kisses him.   
  
This kiss is calmer, like a walk along a river-bank, compared with the flat-out sprint of their first kiss. Logan's fingertips brush against Jake's neck and he can feel his pulse flutter like a butterfly's wings.   
  
"I want you," Jake breathes against Logan's lips, and even though Logan knows that with every fibre of his being, hearing Jake say it out loud is the most arousing thing he's ever encountered.   
  
"Yeah, ok," is all he can manage to reply, but it's enough, because Jake pulls him up by his shirt and they stumble onto his bed, shedding shoes and socks and shirts. Logan's head whirls with thoughts of them together, and whether they're his thoughts of Jake's, he can't tell, and he's not sure it even matters anymore. He shuts his eyes and listens to Jake think, listens to him think  _I cannot fuck this up, I cannot fuck this up_  as he spreads lube on his fingers. Logan obligingly pulls off his jeans and boxers, spreading his legs before Jake has even touched him, and he hears an appreciative moan.   
  
"God, look at you," Jake says, his voice husky. He thinks,  _practically begging for it_ , and Logan has to lick his lips again. It's like Jake's thoughts are pure fire, licking away at him, burning him down till there's only his will for pleasure left.  
  
"Please," he whispers, and the whole situation is so ridiculous because he's harder than he's ever been in his life, just from one kiss and two billion sexual fantasies, and Jake just looks at him until Logan's sure he's going to fall apart from the want of it. "Please," he repeats, and his fingers close around Jake's wrist. Jake snaps his gaze up to meet Logan's and it's like looking at an absence of light, his pupils are so large.   
  
"I've wanted this since I first saw you," he rasps, and Logan nods, impatient now.  
  
"I know," he says, and Jake grins, circling Logan's hole with one slick fingertip. Logan whimpers, more turned-on than he's ever been in his life, and tries to get closer to the pressure. Slowly, bit by bit, Jake pushes his finger in, crooking it just slightly until Logan's fingers tighten on the bed-sheets. It burns a little, almost enough to be uncomfortable, but Jake's thinking  _oh fuck, oh fuck, holy fuck, how is this even happening_  and his visual thoughts are hitting Logan like punches to the gut, and that alone is enough to keep him hard for the next century.   
  
And then Jake adds another finger, leans down and kisses the head of Logan's cock, his lips coming away smeared sticky with precome, and Logan just knows he won't last much longer. His hips rise in an unconscious need to get that pressure back, but just then Jake adds another finger and Logan's spine stops holding him up. It's like torture, this pleasure-pain, and for a second Logan understands why people might find the idea of being a porn star appealing.   
  
But then again, most porn stars don't have Jake Abel licking at their cock and fingering them. Logan is pretty relieved that they don't.   
  
His vision skitters with Jake's thoughts - several interesting positions that Logan's not sure his body can achieve - and then one persistent thought:  _I want to fuck him_.  
  
"Yes," Logan moans, without thinking about it, and then freezes. Jake doesn't appear to have noticed his slip, though, and he pulls his fingers away without warning to reach for a condom. Logan bats his hands away, arms shaking. "I don't give a fuck, just - now, please," he says, words running together, and he doesn't even care how ridiculous he sounds. Jake makes a hot wounded sound like it's the most fucking amazing thing he's ever heard anyone say, and before Logan can even open his mouth, Jake's lining up and pushing in slowly, ever so slowly.   
  
Logan's mind goes blank. The thoughts of a hundred people wash across his mind, but he doesn't hear a thing. His back arches as Jake's fingernails press into his hips, and then Jake stills, his breath coming in hitched gasps.   
  
 _Holy fuck, he's tight_ , Logan hears him think, and he almost laughs. He's heard men think that before about women (when, guiltily, he listened in on his neighbours having sex), but never about himself. He reaches out and draws a line down Jake's neck, tracing his muscles, and just watches them. Sees where they join; tries to remember it all.   
  
Jake thrusts once and Logan's concentration is broken. A visual thought of Jake's rushes across his vision and abruptly, Logan rolls them, straddling Jake now, his hands on Jake's shoulders. He gasps, the position making the tip of Jake's cock press against his prostate, and rocks his hips. Jake moans appreciatively and pulls him back down against him, setting up a rhythm.   
  
Somewhere in the haze of it all, the room smelling like sex and heat, Logan becomes aware of Jake's hand on his cock. He's leaking precome all over both of them, and it sticks to Logan's hand, slicking his fingers along with what's left of the lube, and Logan's breath suddenly refuses to work properly. He stills, leaning down and kissing Jake. It's sloppy because they're both so far gone, but it's perfect and hot and Logan feels Jake come inside him. Jake pulls out slowly, which is a little painful, and then pushes Logan gently onto his back, spreading his thighs and kissing down the length of his cock.   
  
"What're you - ?" Logan begins, and then sees the image of it in Jake's head, and the words dry up in his throat. Jake licks at his hole, tasting his own come, and then pushes it back into Logan, his fingers gentle, insistent. Logan whimpers, feeling Jake's fingers press against his prostate. His cock throbs painfully, precome leaking into a small puddle on his stomach, and Jake just grins wickedly. Logan tries to read his thoughts but can't - his mind is too tired, too preoccupied with pleasure. He can feel Jake's wicked fingers, pushing his come back into him, and then Jake mouths lightly at Logan's cock, and Logan can't stand it any longer. He comes hard, harder than he's ever done before, and black spots dance in his vision.   
  
The first thing he sees when his brain starts functioning again is hazy visions of him and Jake fucking, again.  
  
"Five minutes," he mumbles, turning onto his side, and feels Jake tugging lightly at his shoulder, pulling them together.   
  
"Five minutes what?" he asks.  
  
"Five minutes, then you can fuck me again - on the sofa, sitting up, like you want," Logan yawns, and falls asleep.  
  
#  
  
"I appreciate you being up for it," Jake says, half an hour later, "but what makes you think I'm going to run you dry on our first evening?" There's a pause, and then, "And how did you know about the sofa thing?" He's smoking again. Logan swats the fumes away, scrunching up his nose. His foot has managed to end up in one of Jake's many hobo hats, and he kicks it to the end of the bed. Their shoulders are touching, and Logan's skin feels warm at the contact. He resists the urge to delve into Jake's mind; he's almost scared of what he'll find.  
  
"I, um," Logan pauses, and then thinks,  _Well, fuck it._  "I can read minds."   
  
There's a long silence, and then he becomes aware of Jake's mind racing from thought to thought, so loud he's sure it must be audible to normal people.   
  
"No fucking way," Jake breathes, and then a thought jumps out of his mind at Logan that shocks him.   
  
"You too?" he gapes, staring at Jake, and Jake laughs, shaking his head.  
  
"No, no, my grandma could - I haven't got her talent, but sometimes I can . . . like, push ideas into someone's head. Make them think what I'm thinking," he shrugs, and then looks at Logan, uncertain. "You're being serious about this, right?" Logan dips into his mind - sees the uncertainty, the truth, and grins.  
  
"Yeah," he nods, and his mind races at the idea of having found someone like himself. "This is so weird," he laughs. "I've never found anyone else with something like this. It's like something out of Heroes or something."   
  
"So you can hear me, all the time?"   
  
"Well, sometimes you're louder than other times - in the beginning it was like you were shouting at me, like 'Hey! Look at me! I want to fuck you!' But now I can control it around you." He blushes, aware that Jake's staring at him. His mind buzzes around words like  _amazing_ ,  _finally_.  
  
Jake kisses him, unexpectedly. Logan can feel his eyelashes on his cheeks. It's amazing, he thinks, biting at Jake's lower lip.   
  
"D'you want to get a coffee?" asks Jake. He thinks,  _Every night, from now on._  
  
And Logan says, "Yes."


End file.
